things you dont want to hear on the answering machine

"you...have...three...new...messages...message...one."

beep.

"hello? its me," i recognize the sobbing voice as my cousins. "im at the hospital. sorry if you cant understand this. grandpa just died. im at the hospital. call me, okay?"

beep. "message..two."

"hello? hi, its dad. uh, grandpa just passed away this evening at 6:20. call me if you want more information."

beep. "message...three."

"hi, its me. i called you twice and left a message on your voice mail, and im leaving this here on your home machine. grandpa just died. call me." this one is from my sister.

beep.

damn. damn. damn.

december 2000. it is the last day of school before three weeks of christmas vacation. my maternal grandfather is in the hospital for surgery for the umpteenth time for the umpteenth reason. i visit him for the last time the night before.

he is not well. i sense this when we visit him the last few weeks because he doesnt sit with us and correct my grammar or give me the update of whoever is fucking up this time in the family. this is not normal, and i am worried. but as usual, i just push it aside. in my world, if i dont acknowledge it, it doesnt exist.

after school on the last day before three weeks of christmas vacation, i call the hospital to check to see how he is.

"he is still in the operating room. "

i call for three hours, at the same time every hour, and the same message is given. finally, at the last call i make, the nurse hands the phone to my uncle.

"grandpa passed away."

"thank you. bye."

i hang up, and i look at exbf, and i scream like a wounded animal, and i cry. i cry loud. i cry so loudly that it confuses me, and i am laughing at my dramatics, and i am scaring both exbf and matt.

exbf cannot comfort me, as i am inconsolable. he holds me and wipes the tears from my face, but to no avail. i cannot stop crying, but i make progress because i am no longer screaming. i hate that he is with me right now, while i am in this condition. like a wounded animal, i need to crawl into a space and hide until i am better. until i can fight. i do not like to seem weak.

i am asked to say a few words at the wake. before i go, i get stoned, and i take my time getting there. when i am stoned, my sense of time is warped, so i am very late when i finally make it to the funeral home so i miss my chance at "saying a few words."

i see my grandfather in the coffin, my grandmother being comforted by her children and other visitors, and family who i didnt know was family paying their last respects.

being stoned, i am laughing my ass off at the stupidest things. i am freaking out at the absurdity of death. i hate the formalities of it, just like i hate wedding ceremonies. when i die, i want my burial to be an intimate setting, just like when i get married.

because i fuck up at my opportunity to talk about my grandfather at the wake, i am asked to deliver the eulogy on "the day." again, i get stoned, and i am late getting to the church. but no one was going to start without me, and i take advantage of it.

i look around at the church. i see my son and my cousins. they are babies, between the ages of 5 and 17, and they have no clue that the patriarch of the family is being buried today. they will not know him the way my siblings and i know him. this is both a curse and a blessing.

when it is my turn, i am called to the podium. i take the words my son and my cousins offer for my grandfather. they are innocent words of what they remember about him. it is difficult to deliver this speech without getting choked up.

i cannot remember that day well. i know i do not cry except when i am speaking the words of babes about who my grandfather is. i do not have time to cry. i am too busy using humor to deflect my grief.

i do not know my paternal grandfather well. he abandoned my father and the family when my father was at a young age. we visit him in washington and in san francisco, but i never felt an affinity with him. he is a big man in stature, and his size awes me. i suppose i should hate him for what he does to my father, aunts, uncles, and grandmother, but i dont.

i wonder how my grandmother is doing. she is old now, and our relationship is very strained. i do not treat her kindly when she shared our home, and for this i really cant forgive myself.

i wonder how she receives the news. i do not think she can hate him either despite the position he put her in over 40 years ago. she has never remarried, and i assume its because she cannot get over the pain that the love of her life caused her. i pray to God to grant her courage and strength to continue on.

*********************
a word about my favorite chat friend:

sometimes, i have to ask why i am so lucky, what i do to deserve such graces.

my favorite chat friend messages me saying he wants to just say hi and then go to bed early. rightfully so because the night before, he and i chat for hours. i tell him that my grandfather died today, and he offers his friendship to me, if i need to talk.

he calls me, and we talk for hours. we talk about everything except my grandfather, and for this i am grateful. death is private, and how i deal with it is private, mostly because i do not know how to deal with it at all.

this amazing person is funny, wise, and understanding. he is patient with me while explaining texas hold 'em, stargate sg-1, and some of his ideas of sex and religion.

i love this soul. i cannot explain the sense of self i have when i speak to him. i feel clarity, i feel purity, i feel lucidity. not with all grand topics, but with myself. and with him.

again, this is admiration and not infatuation because i would never dare disrespect him in any way, especially not sexually. i suppress any impure thoughts i have of him because i am more fulfilled listening to him speak about south park than about sex.

he is tall, but not only in height but in character, and i learn from him. i hope he meets someone who will love him and discover his amazing heart, but until then...heres to you, my friend. thank you.